Tell It Like It Is
by Moonofwinds
Summary: Trailbreaker chronically shorts his rations because he sees himself as a drain on the Autobots. Wheeljack is going to change that. Tied to Crack in the Pavement, Chapter 17. Slash. More or less PWP.


Tell It Like It Is

This fic does not read well without first reading Crack in the Pavement, Chapter 17.

So please, go and read that chapter before reading this fic.

This fic can be read independently if you don't care about plot.

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers; I'm just prostituting it for my amusement.

Summary: Trailbreaker chronically shorts his rations because he sees himself as a drain on the Autobots. Wheeljack is going to change that.

Warning: M/M robot slashy goodness.

Pairings: Trailbreaker/ Wheeljack

Trailbreaker came back online sluggishly. He could barely move and he couldn't online his optics. Warnings flashing through his processor telling him that his energon levels were critically low. It was sunrise; the Autobot attack on the Decepticon base must have been over for hours. His processor felt fuzzy and he couldn't seem to focus. It occurred to him that he was cold. With such low energy levels the cold was getting into his circuits and causing them to lock up. This was bad; he tried to move his digits and clench his servos. Trailbreaker felt snow and plant debris beneath his digits but couldn't draw his servos into fists. A wordless complaint breached his lips. A servo stroked his optic ridge. Only then did Trailbreaker realize his helm was in somebodies lap. It took every ounce of energy in him for Trailbreaker to just online his optics. His vision was blurry, more low energon warnings, and a new temperature warning flashed before his processor. Slowly, the world came back into focus. Wheeljack was looking down at him; it was his servo that was stroking Trailbreaker's optic ridge.

"Weeja?" Trailbreaker asked. He frowned. Okay, so that didn't come out right. Wheeljack frowned right back at him.

"Ratchet sent me up a diagnostic scanner," Wheeljack said. He pulled out the device and began scanning Trailbreaker. "You're temperature is dropping now. At least you're online. Do you think you can drink some energon?"

"Yeah," Trailbreaker replied. Though the word didn't sound like yeah, it sounded more like ee-ah.

Wheeljack smiled a little and nodded and raised Trailbreaker's helm while holding a cube to his lips. Trailbreaker drank slowly, one little sip at a time. It took a surprising amount of effort just to swallow. He couldn't keep his optics online while he drank. When Trailbreaker finished the cube, Wheeljack put it away somewhere, Trailbreaker didn't see where; his optics wouldn't online again.

"One cube barely raised your energon level," Wheeljack said. "Try and drink another one."

The second cube was actually harder to drink than the first. Trailbreaker felt his jaw locking up. He felt like his intakes were freezing shut. Though he tried, he couldn't seem to say even a word to tell Wheeljack what was wrong. Trailbreaker suddenly felt very afraid; he was going into stasis. Stasis was a sort of healing recharge; it kept vital systems going long enough for medical intervention. The problem with going into stasis due to cold is the cold itself could do permanent and irreparable damage to some systems, including the processor. It could kill a mech.

"Ah," Trailbreaker croaked. "Ja."

"I'm running another scan," Wheeljack said, sensing or maybe seeing Trailbreaker's distress. As always his head fins blinked as he spoke. "Oh dear. You energon levels are still very low but your temperature is critically low. I have nothing to warm you up. Oh dear... Hmm."

Trailbreaker wasn't sure about the hmm. It sounded like Wheeljack had an idea, but Trailbreaker couldn't even guess what. He couldn't even figure it out when Wheeljack pressed key points on his chassis and opened his interface panel. The cold air stung his ports and Trailbreaker tried to close the panel but his processor wasn't communicating properly with his other systems anymore. Wheeljack opened his own panel and withdrew one of his cables and plugged it into one of Trailbreaker's ports.

A flood of data coursed into Trailbreaker's port and he arched violently. His engine roared to life and the ice forming over his intakes melted as Trailbreaker took in a gulp of air. He could feel Wheeljack's intentions. Interfacing would heat up his systems. One sided, it would draw on Wheeljack's energy reserves, not his. Wheeljack threw added energy into the data stream and further boosted Trailbreaker's levels. Trailbreaker gasped, kindness, concern, patience, gentleness. Wheeljack poured himself into the data stream, more than he knew he was. The temperature warnings faded off and as a strong burst of data shot through him, Trailbreaker overloaded and offlined.

He onlined again some times later. His body felt less sluggish and Trailbreaker found he could move his limbs, albeit only slowly. Trailbreaker onlined his optics and was pleased when his vision focused almost instantaneously. Wheeljack was looking down at him again. One servo rested over Trailbreaker's brow ridge, and the other lay next to his helm, holding the diagnostic scanner. Trailbreaker could feel that his panel was shut, and he could see that Wheeljack's panel was shut as well.

The overload left his systems running warmer, though they were cooling down again. He'd be cold again soon. Despite the energon cubes and the little boost from Wheeljack, Trailbreaker was still far too low on energy. But at least he could move a little. Trailbreaker pulled his legs up, and looked up at Wheeljack.

"I have one more cube," Wheeljack said. "I'm afraid I needed to drink the other one. Skyfire is going to drop some more off in a few hours once his own repairs are finished. There have been a few avalanches since you offlined during the battle and it isn't safe for anyone else to climb up here."

"Thank you," Trailbreaker said. He didn't feel so much as violated by the interfacing as much as put off. It had been so clinical, and yet it had felt good. The lingering affects of the overload had Trailbreaker feeling jittery, but he didn't want to say anything to Wheeljack. He might feel embarrassed or angry with himself for 'facing Trailbreaker and all he'd been trying to do was help. Trailbreaker didn't want him to feel guilty.

Wheeljack helped Trailbreaker sit up against a nearby tree. Trailbreaker's process spun. He offlined his optics and tried to make it stop. When he onlined his optics again, Wheeljack was leaning in close, concern written plainly in his optics.

"Just a little dizzy," Trailbreaker said, trying to smile reassuringly. Wheeljack made a concerned sound in his throat and brought the cube over to Trailbreaker. Trailbreaker tried to take it. His arms wouldn't stop shaking as he held it up.

"I'll help," Wheeljack said. He wrapped his servo around Trailbreaker's and helped him hold the cube to his lips. Trailbreaker drained it quicker than the last two. The normal ration for mechs was three cubes for the entire day. Trailbreaker's normal ration was twelve. He never consumed twelve unless Ratchet was stalking him. Most of the time he drank six. It was still double what any of the other mechs drank, and even drinking that many made him feel guilty. Still it was just enough to keep him functioning, but it meant he was always half starved. Ratchet had told him more than once of the dangers of chronic energon starvation but Trailbreaker couldn't bring himself to drink his fill.

Energon was not a renewable resource. They had to manufacture it from different fuels the humans gave them in exchange for protecting them from the Decepticons. After shorting his rations for several days, it took him several more days of drinking his fill before he had his full amount of energy. So most of the time, Trailbreaker was tired. He was tired now. The cold was creeping back up through his limbs.

"You're energy levels are up to about 25%," Wheeljack said. "Your system doesn't have the energy to fight off the cold."

Wheeljack was right, of course. Trailbreaker's systems weren't locking up yet but they were close. It was beginning to snow and while his body heat would normally have melted the flakes, in his current state his temperature was low enough that the flakes were sticking. That was probably why Wheeljack had moved them under the tree, a little cover from the elements. Temperature warnings flashed through his processor just as they were flashing on Wheeljack's scanner.

He should have said something when Wheeljack leaned over and opened his panel again but Trailbreaker was far too embarrassed to say a word. Wheeljack leaned up close to him and plugged a cable back into one of Trailbreaker's ports. The reaction of Trailbreaker's system wasn't as forceful this time. Trailbreaker shivered, and his intakes took in gulp after gulp of air. Trailbreaker shuttered his optics as Wheeljack's data flooded his systems and made him heat up. It felt better this time. Still clinical, and impersonal but there was less force behind the data stream. It didn't course into his port so much as flow. His overload built slowly this time and spilled over him like a shower of rain.

By the time Skyfire dropped off a dozen more cubes, Wheeljack had 'faced Trailbreaker four times, overloading him each time. Trailbreaker felt his faceplates heat up whenever he looked at Wheeljack while they waited on the mountain. It was impossible for Trailbreaker to down the cubes in quick succession. His body had to process the nutrients, and it took time. He drank two at once and then waited close to an hour before consuming more. Wheeljack consumed two cubes. Having consumed thirteen cubes in just a few hours, and still feeling worn down, Trailbreaker felt like even more of a drain on resources.

"Think you can get off the mountain now?" Wheeljack asked when Trailbreaker had consumed the last of his cubes.

"Yes," Trailbreaker said. They descended in silence, focusing solely on the terrain. Ratchet and Prime waited for them in the nearest village. Trailbreaker didn't even get a chance to say anything; Ratchet pushed him down into Prime's truck bed and ran his own scans.

"Well good, you haven't succeeded in killing yourself yet," Ratchet grumbled at Trailbreaker. "Let's go home, Optimus. I want to lock this slagger in my medbay until his energy levels stabilize."

After three days Trailbreaker itched to get out of the medbay. Ratchet divided his time between lecturing Trailbreaker on proper care of his body and working with Wheeljack in the other mech's lab. Trailbreaker did his best to avoid Wheeljack; it wasn't difficult. Wheeljack smiled at him when he came to see Ratchet but he didn't actively seek Trailbreaker out. Though he'd thought he was being inconspicuous about it, on the third day Ratchet sat down on the berth across from Trailbreaker and asked him exactly what had happened on the mountain.

"Wheeljack took care of me," Trailbreaker replied.

"When you came off the mountain, you're temperature was just barely holding at normal," Ratchet said. "I know with your fuel levels your temperature could not have held. I couldn't get up there myself with thermal blankets. What did Wheeljack do to help you?"

"Promise me you won't be mad at Wheeljack," Trailbreaker said. He didn't want Wheeljack to get into trouble for helping him.

"Whenever someone makes me promise that I end up being really, slagging mad," Ratchet replied, he narrowed his optics.

"Promise me or I'm not saying anything," Trailbreaker said defiantly.

"Fine, I promise," Ratchet said sullenly.

"He 'faced me," Trailbreaker said a little to quickly. He looked down, his faceplates heating.

"Oh," Ratchet said. He blinked his optics repeatedly before shaking off the shock. "That would work."

Trailbreaker didn't say anything. Ratchet looked at him with growing alarm. He crossed the short distance between the berths and placed a servo on Trailbreaker's knee; Trailbreaker looked up, his expression sheepish. Ratchet held his optics, his mouth said in a firm line. The medic tried to analyze Trailbreaker's face.

"Trailbreaker, how do you feel about this?" Ratchet said. He prayed to Primus that his best friend hadn't violated another Autobot. What would he say to Optimus?

"Embarrassed," Trailbreaker said. "He saved my life. I'm just embarrassed."

"Because he 'faced you," Ratchet said, nodding.

"No, because I liked it," Trailbreaker replied, he sucked air through his intakes and vented.

"Oh," Ratchet said and looked down. Now his faceplates were burning. This could not have been more awkward.

"Yeah," Trailbreaker sighed. "Can I please go?"

"Okay," Ratchet said, if for no other reason because he was too embarrassed to deal with Trailbreaker anymore. "But someone is going to come by and make sure you're consuming your rations."

"Alright," Trailbreaker said. This was great, now it would take a month before he could look Ratchet in the optics without his faceplates heating.

Ratchet left his medbay moments after Trailbreaker. So long as the interfacing was sort of consensual, he had no reason to say anything about it to Wheeljack. But Wheeljack was the 'Bot he wanted to see. Now, Ratchet could only hope he could keep a straight face when he spoke to his friend.

Trailbreaker sat on his berth with his legs bent at his knees in front of him. He felt like himself again, felt like himself with more energy. It was embarrassing that Ratchet wanted to sic a baby sitter on him, but Trailbreaker knew that it would only last for so long. Last time, Ratchet had stuck Hound with the task of making sure Trailbreaker consumed his rations. It had strained their friendship. Hound had dogged him relentlessly, and he had resented it. Eventually, Hound had been assigned to a new patrol and Trailbreaker had been left to his own devices. It was rare that Trailbreaker was asked to use his ability and no one had paid attention to Trailbreaker's energon intake. Hound still made sure to refuel with him. He must have known that those six cubes were the only ones that Trailbreaker consumed.

His door alarm pinged, Trailbreaker got up to unlock and open it. He'd expected Hound to be on the other side of the door, but it wasn't Hound. Wheeljack looked up at him with smiling optics, holding two cubes. Trailbreaker stepped back and let Wheeljack come inside. Trailbreaker's intakes whirled and his sparked fluttered in its chamber; he tried to suppress his embarrassment.

"Ratchet told me you won't drink your rations unless someone keeps an optic on you," Wheeljack said "So I'm going to keep my optics on you."

"Wheeljack," Trailbreaker said. Wheeljack forced a cube into Trailbreaker's servos.

"Why do you do it?" Wheeljack asked. They stood in the centre of Trailbreaker's berth room. Trailbreaker felt too embarrassed to move and Wheeljack wouldn't sit without an invitation.

"I'm a drain on Autobot resources," Trailbreaker said, venting. "I need four times as much energon as any other Autobot. It's because of my field generator, even when I'm not using it. But it's mostly useless and all the while I'm supposed to drink all that energon. I'm just a drain most of the time."

"You're wrong," Wheeljack exclaimed, he reached up and grabbed Trailbreaker's upper arm. "We couldn't have destroyed that base without hurting the humans if it weren't for your field generator."

"When there's need of it, it comes in handy," Trailbreaker said. "But that was the first time in months that it's been useful. Otherwise I'm just a blocky, black mech with no real use."

"We have got to work on your self image," Wheeljack sighed. "But maybe I can find some way to optimize your fuel intake. So you can consume less energon?"

"Really?" Trailbreaker ignored the first comment but latched on to the second.

"Sure," Wheeljack said. "You're going to have to let me tinker around in your systems so I can come up with some ideas though."

"Sure," Trailbreaker replied. He smiled sheepishly and thought to himself. 'You've already 'faced me. I don't think I'd mind you poking around a little more.'

Wheeljack always needed to have a few projects going if he was going to stay sane. Trailbreaker's conundrum offered him the opportunity to work on something that he knew would really help. Maybe it wasn't a great concern to the Autobot cause as a whole; whatever Trailbreaker feared, the Autobots had a healthy supply of energon. But it was a real concern to Trailbreaker and he seemed so grateful to Wheeljack just for trying to work on his fuel needs that Wheeljack felt consumed by the project. Trailbreaker possessed possibly the most complicated fuel system of any Autobot. He had not been over exaggerating over just how much fuel his body needed in reserve just to fuel his field generator in standby mode. There was no way that Trailbreaker could ever survive on the three cubes a day most mechs needed, but Wheeljack hoped that he could get it down to the six he'd learned Trailbreaker tended to consume. What Wheeljack wanted to know was where Trailbreaker had come from that had made him so self-deprecating.

"Where did you come from on Cybertron?" Wheeljack asked as he had Trailbreaker laid out on his work bench so he could examine his fuel processor and fuel cells.

"Kaon," Trailbreaker said. He didn't feel any discomfort from Wheeljack's examine. His plating had been unscrewed, not cut through, and Wheeljack had insisted on giving him a mild anaesthetic.

"Really?" Wheeljack said, not looking up from Trailbreaker's abdomen. "A lot of Decepticons came from there."

"Yeah," Trailbreaker said, he remembered the dreary, dark streets of his neighbourhood. Violence, poverty, and anger had ruled there. "It wasn't the most pleasant place."

"Because of Decepticons?" Wheeljack asked, now looking up.

"No," Trailbreaker replied. "Most of the mechs in Kaon, when I lived there, where poor. They were underpaid miners or gladiators for the most part. The mines didn't produce much, not like they once had, and everything was rationed. Oil, energon, components, even medicine. My family were miners. I guess in the glory days my force field would have been useful to help prevent collapses. There were a lot of collapses but I was never able to use my generator. Energon was so rationed I could never risk using it. My family members went short on energon just to keep me functional. I was a burden, a drain on our resources."

"Who told you you were a drain?" Wheeljack asked.

"My siblings, and my uncle," Trailbreaker replied. "My creators always tried to say otherwise but they went short too, and I know it hurt them. They all died in a mine collapse. I used my field generator for the first time to save my life in the same collapse."

"I'm so sorry, Trailbreaker," Wheeljack said, replacing Trailbreaker's abdominal plating. "For what they said and for what happened to them. When did you leave Kaon?"

"After the collapse," Trailbreaker said. "I'm big but not a good fighter and gladiators had the same rations as miners unless they were really good. I ended up running into Hound. He recruited me to join the Autobots."

"I'm glad he did," Wheeljack smiled. "You aren't a drain on our resources. You are a resource, an irreplaceable one."

"Thanks," Trailbreaker mumbled, his faceplates felt a little hot.

"Well I think I know what I can do," Wheeljack said. "I want to upgrade your fuel cells and improve the efficiency of your fuel processor. I think that will improve the overall efficiency of your separate systems and you should be able to consume less energon, possibly by half."

"That would be a big difference," Trailbreaker said. He couldn't help but smile broadly.

"I'm going to get on it right away, would you like to stick around and maybe help?" Wheeljack asked as he smiled back.

"I would," Trailbreaker replied.

"I think we're ready to test them out," Wheeljack announcement after several days of work. "I'm going to need Ratchet's help installing the new fuel cells. It'll be surgery."

"That's not a problem," Trailbreaker replied. "I'm excited to see how this works."

Wheeljack couldn't understand why he felt so nervous. He'd helped Ratchet install components and perform repairs many times but he had never been nervous before one. At least not as nervous as he was. What if the fuel cells ruptured or the upgrade to Trailbreaker's fuel processor some how damaged Trailbreaker? The thought made Wheeljack's spark spasm painfully. Trailbreaker wanted so badly for this to work and Wheeljack was terrified of failing him.

"'Jack?" Ratchet asked as they discussed the procedure they were about to attempt. "Are you okay?"

"I'm nervous," Wheeljack admitted.

"About the cells?" Ratchet asked, his optics seemed to be reading directly into Wheeljack's processor.

"I know I've tested them and tested them," Wheeljack said, rubbing the back of his helm. "But what if they burst, or malfunction when they're inside of him? It could kill him."

"You've never worried about one of your components before," Ratchet commented.

"Red Alert," Wheeljack replied.

"'Jack," Ratchet sighed.

"A fuel cell rupture can be fatal in minutes," Wheeljack reminded him. "I... Trailbreaker is my friend. I don't know what I'd do if these cells hurt him."

"I'll keep him in my medbay for a day or two," Ratchet said. "And keep him in the Ark for the next week at least so if anything goes wrong I'll be right here and ready to fix it."

"I guess that'd be good," Wheeljack replied. "Okay, let's get to it."

Wheeljack sat on the berth across from Trailbreaker's and wrung his digits as he waited for the 'Bot to come online. Ratchet had said everything had worked perfectly and that Trailbreaker's fuel levels were better than perfect. But Wheeljack couldn't stop worrying. He jumped up when he saw Trailbreaker move on the berth.

"Trailbreaker?" Wheeljack asked. "How are you feeling?"

"Wheeljack?" Trailbreaker said. "I feel... I feel fine."

"Are you sure?" Wheeljack asked. "Don't feel strange at all?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Trailbreaker assured him. "I feel perfect."

"I'm glad," Wheeljack said, venting with relief. "Ratchet wants to keep you close, just in case."

"I can live with that," Trailbreaker said.

"Good because there is no way Ratchet's going to let you out for a couple of days," Wheeljack chuckled.

"Thank you, Wheeljack," Trailbreaker said. "For doing this for me."

"Happy to help," Wheeljack replied.

"You're new fuel cells are functioning perfectly," Ratchet announced. "And your energy levels are holding study. It looks like Wheeljack's upgrades have improved your fuel efficiency. Your ration needs are down by 50%. Think you can avoid trying to short yourself from now on?"

"I think I can manage that," Trailbreaker replied.

"You'd better," Ratchet said. "Now go, be free."

Trailbreaker smiled and left the medbay. He wanted to find Wheeljack. There was so much he had to thank Wheeljack for, and not just for the upgrades. Trailbreaker thought back to the mountain. Wheeljack hadn't gotten anything from the 'faces; Trailbreaker had gotten a lot, more than energy and heat. Whether Wheeljack had realized it or not he'd made Trailbreaker feel very good. He hadn't felt that good in a long time. It had been ages since he'd last 'faced with someone. There was nothing special about Trailbreaker's model, nothing special about him that might attract another mech to him. And Trailbreaker was too shy to approach anyone. Normally, Trailbreaker would have considered Wheeljack out of his league, even though he did find Wheeljack attractive. But Trailbreaker felt indebted to Wheeljack and that offered just enough of a push him to approach him.

He found Wheeljack in the common room, drinking a cube. Trailbreaker ignored the flutter of anxiety in his fuel processor and crossed the room to Wheeljack. His spark quivered when Wheeljack smiled at him and called him over.

"You're free?" Wheeljack asked, smiling behind his mask.

"Yes," Trailbreaker replied. "Thank you again. I was wondering if you might want to watch a show with me in my berth room."

"Sure," Wheeljack said. He liked Trailbreaker's smile. Before he'd gotten to know Trailbreaker, he hadn't known much of anything about the other mech but what he did remember of him was that he had never seemed to offer more than a small, tired smile. Trailbreaker's smile seemed a lot broader and brighter now. Wheeljack liked this new smile.

"Great," Trailbreaker replied. He had the perfect show in mind too. Many of the 'Bots liked soap operas, and maybe Wheeljack did too but Trailbreaker thought Wheeljack would enjoy a science show better.

They went to his berth room together chuckled over the current betting pool Smokescreen had started. The gambler was taking bets on how long it would take for Cliffjumper to beat the ever loving slag out of either Huffer or Powerglide. Neither Trailbreaker nor Wheeljack placed a bet but both agreed that sooner or later Cliffjumper would indeed lash out at Huffer or Powerglide in defence of Mirage. One would think that Huffer and Powerglide would be smart enough to to realize that harassing their friend's lover would only hurt their friendship, and very likely their faceplates. Trailbreaker led Wheeljack to his berth and turned on the TV. He knew the channel he wanted and turned on Bill Nye.

"The Science Guy," Wheeljack exclaimed, and chuckled. "I didn't know any other 'Bot knew about this show."

"Hound introduced me to it," Trailbreaker explained. Wheeljack smiled at him. They relaxed on Trailbreaker's berth. The show was over before long. Trailbreaker's spark quivered with anxiety as his fuel processor clenched.

"Are you nervous about something?" Wheeljack asked.

"How can you tell?" Trailbreaker replied. He gave Wheeljack an embarrassed smile.

"You're engine revs a certain way when you're nervous," Wheeljack explained.

"Good thing I don't gamble," Trailbreaker laughed lightly at himself. "I have a tell."

"So what are you nervous about?" Wheeljack ask, laughing with Trailbreaker.

"Just a question, or offer," Trailbreaker fumbled over his words. "Or... Well... Do you want to 'face?"

Wheeljack blinked and looked thoughtfully at Trailbreaker. He placed his servo in the middle of Trailbreaker's chassis and replied: "yes."

They came together slowly. Trailbreaker turned on his berth, leaving one leg bent over the side and one folded in front of him. He reached out to Wheeljack, who knelt on the berth. Wheeljack let himself be drawn in. For a moment, Trailbreaker worried that Wheeljack was by nature clinical about interfacing and what he had done on the mountain was his normal style; he needn't have worried. With more on his processor that just keeping Trailbreaker alive, Wheeljack was far more curious and far more affectionate. Years of building protoforms and armour had taught Wheeljack where to find the most sensitives bundles of wire and cable on any mech. He slid his servos up Trailbreaker's abdomen and into the bottom gap of Trailbreaker's chassis. Trailbreaker's intakes hitched as Wheeljack tangled his digits in the wires there.

Trailbreaker had none of the scientific knowledge that Wheeljack had, but he did have practical knowledge. He wanted to make Wheeljack feel, he wanted to overload him. Wheeljack's head fins were no doubt the most sensitive parts of Wheeljack's outer plating but Trailbreaker didn't want to overwhelm him with just that. Leaving that for later, Trailbreaker toyed with the cables leading into Wheeljack's hip. The inventors vocalizer hitched, and his head fins flickered. Trailbreaker found the sound and the sight incredibly enticing and sought to evoked more sounds and more flickers of those lights.

It may have been ages since Trailbreaker had last properly 'faced with another mech, but it had been even longer for Wheeljack who'd always spent far too much time in his workshop, even back at the Academy. Practical experience was beat out by scientific knowledge. Trailbreaker pinched and twisted cables and wires and transformed Wheeljack into a shivering pile of over-sensitive metal goo. Wheeljack's arms were shaky from the assault Trailbreaker made on the cables that ran from under his chassis and into his arms. His head fins flickered nearly constantly as Trailbreaker drew one wordless sound after another from Wheeljack's vocalizer. He didn't moan as much as he gasped. Trailbreaker pulled Wheeljack against his chassis as he compressed and massaged the cables that ran along Wheeljack's spinal strut. Wheeljack sagged against him, pleasure making his legs go limp and a long keening cry fall from his vocalizer. Trailbreaker held Wheeljack up with those servos that continued to massage and to compress the structures of Wheeljack's back. Now Trailbreaker dragged his denta down Wheeljack's head fin.

"Trailbreaker," the end of his name broke of in a wordless, pleading cry from Wheeljack. His panels flew open, upper and lower. From the fog of pleasure that consumed his processor, Wheeljack tried to close the panels, shocked that he had just torn himself open for display like that. Trailbreaker stopped him from closing the panels by simultaneously biting the top of Wheeljack's head fin and compressing a bundle of sensors at the base of Wheeljack's spine.

A jolt of pleasure shot directly through Wheeljack's valve and his head fins flickered wildly as he babbled incomprehensibly. Trailbreaker scooped Wheeljack up and deposited him back on the berth. With one servo he stroked the ports on Wheeljack's chassis. He prepared Wheeljack's valve with the other servo, thrusting his digits, one, two, three and four at a time into Wheeljack's under used valve. Trailbreaker took special care to thoroughly stretch the valve, all the while driving Wheeljack out of his processor. His head fins flickered constantly; Wheeljack was unable to be quiet. He kept his fingers buried in the seams of Trailbreaker's armour, trying to pleasure Trailbreaker as best he could.

His legs were splayed wide as Trailbreaker entered his valve with a thick, pressurized cable. Wheeljack's hips arched into Trailbreaker; his thighs shook. He shook. Almost as an after thought, Wheeljack used his shaky fingers to withdraw one of Trailbreaker's cables from his chassis and plug it into his own port. He plugged each of Trailbreaker's upper cables into each of his ports before plugging his own cables into Trailbreaker's ports.

Trailbreaker thrust hard as he rode the all encompassing data stream that surged between them. Wheeljack shook and begged without words as Trailbreaker 'faced him into the berth. He overloaded, clamping his valve down around Trailbreaker and still Trailbreaker 'faced him. His cable reaching every millimetre of Wheeljack's valve. No part of him was left untouched. Data streams combined together into a wave and flooded Wheeljack's systems and he overloaded again, hard. He felt Trailbreaker's overload and the hot rush of interface fluid that filled his valve. Even as he was aware of this, Wheeljack overloaded for a third time and fell offline.

Wheeljack onlined a few minutes later, laying on top of Trailbreaker. He smiled down at Trailbreaker, the roar of their engines had quieted it a loud hum; Wheeljack could feel his intakes still taking greedy gasps of air. A wave and pleasant listlessness passed over Wheeljack and he rested his helm against Trailbreaker's chassis and he offlined his optics. After only a minute he onlined them again and pushed himself up Trailbreaker's chassis. Trailbreaker was looking up at him, his optics were dim in the afterglow of overload; Wheeljack slid down his mask, leaned over and kissed him. Trailbreaker returned the kiss and cupped the back of his helm.

"I liked that," Wheeljack said when he broke the kiss. His spark pulsed a little faster as Trailbreaker ran his servo down Wheeljack's helm and rested it on his back.

"So did I," Trailbreaker replied. "Why did you try to hide your face from me? Did you think the scars would be off putting?"

"Yeah," Wheeljack admitted. He hid his faceplates against Trailbreaker's chassis. "I got them at the Academy, during the collapse."

"I think I remember," Trailbreaker said. "You had energon pouring off your faceplates when we got to you."

"And you offlined moments later," Wheeljack replied. "I'd never met a braver mech."

Trailbreaker felt his faceplates heat up and knew Wheeljack could feel it too. He stole another kiss from Wheeljack and said: "we can do it again, after recharge. You can stay here. I'll move if you want."

"I'd like to stay right here," Wheeljack said, emphasizing his point by scooting back and resting his helm back against Trailbreaker's chassis. He rested one servo in front of his face and rubbed his digits in little circles against Trailbreaker's plating. Wheeljack heard Trailbreaker's intakes hiccup, and he smiled.

"I don't know whether you're oblivious or just stupid," Ratchet growled later after Wheeljack told him about his night.

"Ratch," Wheeljack complained at Ratchet's tone.

"You don't 'face a mech just because he wants to," Ratchet said with frustration. "You're too nice for your own good."

"No you 'face another mech because you're attracted to him," Wheeljack retorted. He nodded his helm and smiled to himself.

"Oh, well yeah," Ratchet stammered, his faceplates burning. He looked away from Wheeljack. "Slag, please don't say anymore or I am never going to be able to look at Trailbreaker normally again."

"Okay," Wheeljack replied. "I'm off then. Trailbreaker and I are meeting for another date."

That smile returned to Wheeljack's faceplates and Ratchet hid his face with one servo. It was impossible to ignore the self-assured strut in Wheeljack's step. Ratchet really wished that he didn't know what that meant.

End Fic

A/N This pairing doesn't matter to the scheme of Crack in thr Pavement but it plays a part in the sequel, God Machine, that has not yet been written.


End file.
